Today I Saw God

I have been blessed to be the coordinator for our disaster response mission teams for national disasters for the last 13 years. There have been over 600 Floris UMC team members on 46 teams since Hurricane Katrina destroyed /damaged 800,000 housing units in August 2005. Volunteers have supported relief and recovery from numerous disasters (tornadoes and hurricanes) in Mississippi, Florida, South Carolina, North Carolina, Virginia, New Jersey and New York. While 600 team members may seem like an impressive number of people from one church, the number does not reflect the actual number of volunteers, since many team members have been on multiple trips/teams (some have been on 30+ teams). Bottom line is while we have many tried and true volunteers who have gained great experience and skills over the last 13 years, what we do not have is a steady stream of new volunteers joining these experienced volunteers on teams. One reason may be that some folks are intimidated by their idea that they are not talented enough to be on a team. I want to assure everyone that what we need is people of ALL experience levels! Our experienced volunteers enjoy sharing with and training new volunteers. People who begin trips as novices are dependable workers after the first day of the trip. To quote Neal A. Maxwell: “God does not begin by asking our ability, only our availability, and if we prove our dependability, God will increase our capability”. Please read the two blogs below. They are written by two people who were the only two members of a 9 person Recovery team recently responding to Hurricanes Matthew and Irma in Florida, who were new to Disaster Response teams. They provide a great “newbie” description of what it is like to be the inexperienced members of a Disaster Response Team (newbie is a term previous new team members applied to themselves). I know they will be on future teams, will never be called newbies again, and will never forget the spiritual experience of working with Diane and Norman. And they will probably help train “newbies” on future teams. I hope you will be one of them. I know you will see God in the faces of people like Diane and Norman! In 2019 we will be sending teams to North Carolina to respond to Hurricane Florence and Florida to continue to respond to Hurricane Irma. Look forward to seeing you on one of the teams!

Susan Lystlund:

At an informational meeting about the church, Tom spoke about the twofold directions of Christian service: service inside the church and service to the vulnerable. I had this in my mind when, on a more recent Sunday, Tom announced the mission trip to help those whose homes had been damaged by hurricane. I felt called to help. Having never been on a mission trip before, I didn’t know what to expect. Certainly, I expected to see flood damage, but a dimension of the mission that had not occurred to me was that homeowners would not qualify for assistance by the United Methodist Volunteers in Mission (UMVIM) unless they were financially unable to do the repairs themselves. I was unprepared for the standard of living we witnessed in the homes we visited. I live in Fairfax County, a location of great affluence, in a country whose standard of living is greater than in most areas of the world. It simply hadn’t occurred to me to expect people living so far below the poverty line, people isolated due to disability or lack of transportation.

Our team leader, Tim, encouraged us to listen, to talk with the homeowners as much as they wished to talk. I am grateful for this encouragement, because I am normally shy and introverted, and I would not have gotten to know the people for whom we worked, otherwise. I spent every day we were there with Diane, grandmother to two grandchildren living with her, whose roof had leaked in many places in her house and needed to be repaired. Jill, from our team, introduced me to cutting and attaching sheet rock and to “mudding” it, to make the transition between the old and new smooth. We then taped the joined places and mudded them some more. Paul taught me how to sand the dried mud and prime the ceiling for later painting. I also worked on the walls and ceiling of Norm’s house, which he referred to as his “little slice of heaven.” His roof had leaked so badly that it had been partially replaced by a team previous to us, but the insulation and sheet rock beneath it needed to be replaced by our team. Steve, among others, taught me how to install laminate flooring at Norm’s house. At Sandra’s house, we moved her furniture and belongings from her screened-in porch back into the house. (They had been displaced by an earlier team.) Sandra’s heart is so big, she had taken in all of the stray cats in her area, in addition to keeping her own cats. I enjoyed working side-by-side with Tim, Jill, Paul, Steve, Lee, Coury, Mike, and Thomas. It was hard work, but it was needed work, and I felt blessed to be given the opportunity to be a part of it.

Some of my favorite times during the trip were the meals in the church kitchen. That’s when we gathered as a group and cooked and talked and relaxed, getting to know each other. We ate out together when we could not eat at the church, and we took our lunches at the work sites. Each time, everyone swapped stories about previous mission trips, our families, and our experiences with Floris. We went to church together on Sunday morning, singing and praying together like the little family it felt like we were.

Coury Macdonald:

I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me, even when I don’t think I have a thing to offer… a blog about my mission trip to Florida and, specifically, about one of four families that my team was able to help in some small way. I've been on three prior mission trips outside the U.S., but never thought I'd have much to offer on the "construction" trips for hurricane relief because I am not a handyman or contractor.

Norman is a 68 year old man who lives on a one acre parcel of land outside of St. Augustine, Florida. Three years ago, his manufactured home was affected by Hurricane Matthew and a year ago he was hit a second time by Hurricane Irma. His roof was stricken by downed trees from both storms and water then poured into his living room, kitchen and entryway – for three years. Over the past three years, Norman’s home became a cesspool for mold and mildew in the attic, in the walls and beneath the flooring. Norman said he had severe breathing difficulties and his sinuses were causing him health problems due to the condition of his home.

Norman survives on less than $8,500.00 per year in social security benefits and $42.00 per month in food stamps. His property taxes alone were costing him $720.27. Norman has a car that does not run and he is not employable. He relies on people to take him places, bring him food and to generally care for him, but Norman wouldn’t tell you that as he is outwardly proud and independent.

Norman was directed by a friend to apply to UMVIM through a local Methodist Church for hurricane relief for missionaries to come to his home and help fix up what he was unable to pay for or fix himself, and which he was unable to qualify for under the FEMA requirements. UMVIM helps fix up and rehabilitate homes for the needy that can’t otherwise take care of or afford repairs on their own.

In the weeks leading up to my first mission trip to St. Augustine, another team worked on Norman’s house to tear off his roof and put a new metal roof on his home. They also tore out the walls along 50 feet of his manufactured home, about four feet of popcorn ceiling, and they removed the insulation and carpeting.

When our team arrived, we had the pleasure of spending time with Norman. We got to know him and his home. For several days, we put up new insulation in his roof and walls, we put in new drywall on the ceiling and walls, and we put in new engineered wood flooring for him. Perhaps it doesn’t sound like a lot, but it was indeed a lot of work. There were only nine of us on the team and we were spread thin among four different jobs throughout our mission trip; however, there was always one much more experienced team member with us to show us newbies what to do and how to do it. I was shocked by the grace of my team members who took extreme amounts of time (over and over again) to show me how to do the job I was there to do. Prior to this trip, I had zero experience doing flooring, insulation or drywall, but now I can say with confidence I could take many more of these trips and be much more useful doing the same types of work.

For years, I passed up hurricane relief effort mission trips because thought I had nothing to offer. I was very wrong. Sometimes, the experts need someone to do the simple things so they can focus on the more complex things - they need helpers to fetch them the right tools, or to hold something, or to point the flashlight in the right direction, or to get them water. More often, I learned they teach you to do their job, they show you how to put in the insulation, to measure and cut drywall, to put the drywall up, to mud the drywall and put up tape strips where seams are, and then to come back day after day to re-mud after the first and subsequent coats dry, and to put in those wood floors.

Norman is a child of God. He is a human being. He is one of us. He is personable and talkative, yet private and happy. He loves his one acre of land, his manufactured home and his little outbuildings that he personally built, but never finished. He told me it was his little piece of Heaven on Earth. He has lived there for 28 years and personally planted over a hundred maple trees in the midst of all his oak and palmetto trees. He had plants everywhere and you could often see him outside weeding around the house and among the plants. He said he often spends two to three hours a day caring for his land. Lastly, and perhaps outside the scope of what a team member sometimes does, I sat with Norman and discussed his age and income with respect to his property taxes. With a few minutes of research, we were able to determine that Norman qualifies for tax relief that will now reduce his annual tax liability from $720.27 to only $128.22, and we were able to steer him in the direction of other government and local benefits for food and clothing.

I could feel God's presence with us during the entire trip. It was amazing to see how He shows His face in the midst of destruction. Norman was always smiling and thankful; he never seemed discouraged. God used our hands to get the job done and it was a blessing and a humbling experience to help others. It was a pleasure to work with and get to know my team, some of whom had been on several of these trips before me. Our group embodied synergy, love, trust, guidance and teamwork. My relationship with eight strangers from my church was strengthened throughout this mission trip. Most of all, I learned that these hurricane and tornado relief trips need people of all ages to go on the trips -- there is NO experience necessary and the leaders of the trips teach you what to do every step of the way.

We knew they were coming. The group of white supremacists had been issued a permit to gather in Lafayette Park, on this, the one-year anniversary of the “Unite the Right” event in Charlottesville. At their 2017 gathering, Heather Heyer, a counter-protester, was killed, while others were physically injured and their city was left scarred and deeply saddened. Now they were coming to Washington, D.C.

A call was initiated by the Baltimore-Washington Conference of the United Methodist Church to respond to the white supremacist rally with a rally of our own. I’d heard that there would be a group from Floris UMC going. Something inside inclined me to sign up.

Let’s be clear: I am not a very brave person. I am no risk taker. I am not foolhardy. I have never stood before the barrel of a gun, never truly feared for my life, and certainly never placed myself intentionally in the presence of someone I knew would be spewing hatred, shouting racist epithets or chanting anti-Semitic slogans. (Heck, I don’t even like the unruly crowds at Redskin games.) All of this swam in my mind as I boarded the Floris UMC bus to head downtown.

There were 12 of us on that bus: 10 courageous women, one pastor and bus-driver extraordinaire and me. During the ride down, organizers of our group delivered our “marching orders.” In case we were confronted by hostile protesters or situations that posed harm, we were to defuse any altercations, assist anyone subjected to harm and were not to engage any form of hatred. Our job was to sow peace, the peace of Christ. But, just in case something untoward occurred, we arranged for an alternate meeting spot, shared phone numbers, and signed into event alerts. Maps indicating the nearest metro stations were distributed, just in case we couldn’t get back to the bus.

This, you might imagine, did not assuage my fears. There I was, sitting in the back of a church bus, apparently headed straight into what might be harms way. I sat pretty quietly during that ride in spite of the lively chatter which surrounded me. This was a pack of peacemakers with a purpose! I was completely out of my league.

The plan was to collect for a pre-march pep rally at Christ United Methodist Church, so after Rev. Bob’s miraculous parallel parking on DC city streets, we poured out of that bus and onto the sidewalk to head to church. First, prayer. Circling to hold hands, Sara Greer even convinced a group of kids walking our way to join us. All prayed up, we headed to church where we were greeted warmly, welcomed magnanimously and inspired by word, song and fellowship. They handed us a lunch – our last meal? – as we gathered behind the banner to begin our march.

Our police escort immediately surrounded us. They proceeded to stop traffic, so this little band — multi-racial, multi-ethnic, broad-ranging in age and mobility — could all find its way safely. As we spilled onto the grassy lawn of the mall, instead of the hatred, weaponry, and harsh words I feared, we were greeted by nothing but love. A beautiful stage had been erected right in front of the Capitol building, its banner announcing our common purpose: United to Love.

Kicking off this rally, Bishop LaTrelle Easterling told us, this was not a meeting of counter-protesters. In fact, it came about in response to a request directed to the bishop imploring her to lead the effort to deny the “Unite-the-Right-ers” permission to rally. “Absolutely not,” she told them. “If we take away their rights, they will have the right to take away ours.” Instead, we will rally under this banner. Not as counter-protesters, shouting down hatred, but as representatives of a force stronger than hate, because, as Dr. King said, “Love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy into a friend.”

United to Love had a permit, too — for the mall, not Lafayette Park, thank goodness! I would not be standing eye to eye with white supremacists, but surrounded by love in all colors and denominations. Relief! I even saw a bit of humor in this. As we staked out our place on the grass, we were instantly dive-bombed by dozens of large flying bugs that resembled dragonflies. One in particular hovered so close to me and held me with such intent focus, I imagined him a dragonfly-drone collecting data on this new species of Invader. I waved a happy so-long, as he buzzed off.

Then I settled onto a borrowed beach blanket to enjoy the spectacle: song and word, prayer and praise, fellowship and message. A rally it was, to God be every bit of the glory. Yes, we knew that hatred and bigotry was gathering just a few blocks from us but we couldn’t hear them and we couldn’t see them; it was only from news reports via digital media that we heard they were there. Instead we were focused on the future, on ways that moved us forward, on a path we could chart together. We, a diverse group of interfaith worshipers, gathered in support of our common humanity and each other. That, I felt sure, was not what was happening in Lafayette Park.

Then the funniest of thoughts creeped in. What if all the dragonflies really are drone-spies sent by the “Unite the Right” rally organizers to report on that “other rally” down on the mall? I wondered what they’d think of what was being shared here: messages of hope, commitment, and unconditional love, amid preaching and teaching affirming that we, in our diverse array, are each expressions of a God whose nature is love.

OK, now that I’m relaxed and amused and my life doesn’t feel quite so endangered, this out-of-doors praising God inclines me to worship with a bit more abandon — to raise my hand in affirmation, clap my hands in rhythm and raise my voice in response. I’ll be honest, I feel way more free to really worship here than I feel inside a Sanctuary on a Sunday.

Our times make it clear that now is the time we need to raise our hand when we see injustice and raise our voices to stand against it. From Micah 6, we take our marching orders… what does the Lord require of you?

As I look behind me and scan the gathering of the faithful around me, a peace that passes understanding settles over me. The trepidation I came with is gone. No, I’m not a risk-taker by nature, but I’m no standby-er either. I rise to wander through and greet a few folks, but mostly to snap photos of the amazing expressions of God’s mercy, love and justice, on display right there on the D.C. Mall.

How proud I feel to have marched behind the banner which is now draped over the fence with the Capitol building as backdrop. Midway through the rally, as the afternoon sun beats down on us, and most of the crowd have taken shelter in the shade to right or left of the stage (but not the hardcore like us!), Dr. David McAllister-Wilson, President of Wesley Seminary addresses those gathered. He wonders to us, What is Unite the Right? How are they right? He concludes that they have gotten it confused. Not unite the right, rather, unite the righteous. “Peacemakers who sow in peace raise a harvest of righteousness.” ~ James 3:18

Many speakers refer to the distinction between our rally and that of “those gathered a few blocks away.” It starts me wondering if our times are something like the day in another capitol city, Jerusalem, some 2,000 or so years ago when there were also two parades. Along one parade route people shouted Hosanna and waved palm branches, welcoming Jesus riding humbly on a donkey. Along the other rode Pontius Pilate, Roman governor of Judea, adorned in his imperial majesty. One rally peaceful, one rally proud. The peaceful not a counter-protest but a different message, entirely.

Sometimes, when we as people who are not brave, not risk-takers, and not particularly well-suited to diffuse differences or sow peace, let the God of love drag us up out of our pews into our nation’s capitol on a Sunday, we are forced to see and hear what is going on in our day.

I marched and rallied on Sunday in order to magnify the message that Jesus reverberates through the ages: “faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.” Love is the eternal answer to the toughest questions of every age.

The question that remains: what will the followers of Jesus do with the message of love? We’d best be love.

We were having two days of intense winds, and I was worried about my neighbor’s tree, a tall pine more than fifty feet high, and other trees in my yard.

My husband had gone to work, and I had the day off. I was still in my pajamas when I decided to move my car to the place where my husband parks his car. I was afraid that a tree branch in our front yard would fall on my car. I was barely back inside my house when I heard a rumble. I ran to the kitchen window and could not see the neighbor's pine tree. It had fallen! I opened my front door and saw my car buried under pine branches. I started shaking and a neighbor came to see if I was okay. He told me that he had just driven around the neighborhood and the only tree that had fallen was the one that destroyed my car.

It’s incredible how everything can change in an instant. Nobody is exempt. A tree destroyed my means of transportation.

Jesus never said that we would escape trials or problems. On the contrary, He said in John 16:33: “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

Our environment is full of pain, suffering and difficulties. Believers are not immune. An illness, unemployment, a divorce, an accident, abandonment, sexual abuse, depression or losing a loved one can change the course of our lives.

As believers, we are not free of problems or afflictions. How we differentiate ourselves from the rest, is the way face them. We do not concentrate on our difficulties. On the contrary, we see God working with us through these situations, and we are victorious because we are not alone facing our adversities. “I call on the Lord in my distress, and he answers me.” Psalm 120:1.

The insurance paid me more than what I expected for my car and a new fence. “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him.” Romans 8:28.

If there are winds in your life that are disturbing your spiritual tranquillity, I challenge you to attend church, a source of nutrition for your spiritual hunger. Let's find refuge in the presence of the Lord. He is the only one who can calm our hearts in the midst of the storms of life. “And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 4:7.

Joy is not the lack of problems, but the presence of Christ in your existence! What do you need to change in your life to be able to feel joy in the midst of trials? “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.” 2 Corinthians 1:3-4.

At the end of this year, my husband and I will be moving to Williamsburg. Between now and then we have a number of things to do and a very limited time in which to do them. Two of them are unavoidable: cleaning out the old house and planning the new one. Each of these “to do’s” comes with its own set of challenges and its own offering of unique opportunities.

Cleaning out what you've collected over the course of a 26-year stay can be both overwhelming and freeing. Honestly, it’s a bit embarrassing what you find under the weight of all those years. Stuff you’ve forgotten and shoved aside, something you purchased but only used once, and much that time and technology has rendered obsolete. But also tucked away in that storage are a few precious gems: old photos, letters from a friend, a lock of the baby’s hair. These are keepers. I’ll take them with me.

On the other hand, creating the house you've dreamed of can be both daunting and delightful. While I feel incredibly grateful to be able to build a house, the burden of “getting it right” feels quite heavy. There are so many people to consult, decisions to make and costs to cover. Plus, planning for a future you don’t know in a place you’ve never lived… well, there’s just a lot of guesswork involved. And a lot of hoping.

I find myself reminded of the words of scripture that greeted me when I was new at Floris and unsure about my decision to leave my old church. In my very first small group study, we read the words spoken to Abram, “Go to the land I will show you.” (Gen 12.1) Not, here’s a map. Not, here are three nice plots of land, choose one. Not even, follow me. Simply, go. And as you go, I’ll show you where and what and how.

But I haven’t left yet! So, as preparations are made, I have been gifted with a short time to complete what I started here. What needs finishing? What loose ends need tying? What haven’t I done yet that I may not get to do again? Honestly, if it weren’t for the impending departure, I doubt I would ever find myself in this place. But now that I do, I am trying to honor it. What do I want to do before I go?

Isn't it interesting how scripture seems to prepare us for ANY occasion? As Bishop Palmer so conveniently reminded us via sermon last week, when Jesus knew he was on his way out, he gathered his disciples to tell them: if you don't remember anything else, remember this: stoop, kneel and wash the wounds of this world. I’ll be honest: taking one's leave does sharpen one's focus, even if divinity isn't in your bloodline. You know what they say, you can't take it with you.

So, as I take my leave from Floris UMC -- yes, I think a 3-hour commute on a Sunday is probably not in the cards -- I am saddened by the thought that I can't take it, take you, with me. I can't take the friends, the kindnesses, the notes, or the conversations. I can't take the small groups who welcomed me gladly and set me on a level place. I can't take the vitality, the diversity, the fiscal responsibility, or the trust that has inspired deeper stewardship. I can't take the message or the messengers that have shaped the word of God in me, as much as I'd like to.

Nope, I have to leave all that behind. Or do I?

This pondering is another gift of the before-I-go time. As I look underneath all the clutter I have acquired over my time here, I discover the keepers that I DO get to take with me. In fact, I must, because now they are a part of me.

From you, friends, I have learned the impact of small kindnesses and the power to pay it forward.

From your acceptance, I have gained the confidence to risk being myself without apology, always with an eye tuned to what others have to teach me.

From your vitality, born of discipline, I have learned that no's open the doors to yeses I would not otherwise have seen.

Your message has inspired me to think and write, on this blog and elsewhere, and even to publish what I've written.

Thank you for your patience as I have found my way among you, friends. And to my pew-mates who have observed my scribbling furiously during every sermon, thank you for indulging me. It is a labor born of love.

On the wall of my teen-aged bedroom there hung a poster I loved. In the foreground was a beautiful white bird taking flight over rolling surf at the edge of a vast oceanic expanse. Written in script across the sand were the words: "If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it's yours. If not, it never really was."

Floris United Methodist Church, you have my enduring thanks and my undying love. As I go, you go with me. I'll be back.

The following blog posting is Based on the May 16, 2018 Devotion in the Floris UMC Racial Reconciliation Group Meeting:

In his Dissent of Plessy V. Ferguson, 1896, Justice John Marshall Harlan wrote,

“The White race deems itself to be the dominant race in this country. And so it is, in prestige, in achievement, in education, in wealth, and in power…But in view of the constitution, in the eyes of the law, there is in this country no superior, dominant, ruling class of citizens. There is no caste here. Our constitution is color-blind, and neither knows nor tolerates classes among citizens….The destinies of the two races, in this country, are indissolubly linked together,and the interests of both require that the common government of all shall not permit the seeds of race hate to be planted under the sanction of law."

There’s a lot here to unpack here, but for this moment, let’s focus just on the portion, “The destinies of the two races, in this country, are indissolubly linked together.” Do we really believe this, and if we do and we weren’t hypocrites, how would it manifest in our daily lives?

Many racial groups in our community live side by side with other racial groups but rarely do their lives cross paths other than when traveling along the same roadways. Whites, in particular, sometimes think that they can conduct themselves most of their days within their own world without any need or interest in interacting with any other racial group. This can make them indifferent to those groups, and in some cases, dismissive of those groups needs and interests, or of great value found when racial groups interact in meaningful ways. The irony of white privilege here, that any group other than whites can imagine actually living most of their daily lives without the constant influence of another group’s values and position, doesn’t escape me.There’s still value to the question, however: Pushing back on racial insularity, how is the positive destiny of white people directly linked to the positive destiny of people of color? Alternatively, how are the races so linked that as one rises, the other does, too, or as one falls, the other one does as well? Could each race be considered the canary in the coal mine for the other?

I’m struck by one of the biggest reasons I’m a part of a racial reconciliation group – none of us is free until all of us are free. My white race is not whole in its humanity nor in its faith and relationship with God until it is reconciled with each race, and it has done the hard work of becoming aware and proactive in ending racism, doing much more than a quick click on the, “Like,” button on a random anti-racism tweet.

This is a scary thing, though. It requires candor, and it’s just easier to keep living one’s life without rocking the boat or losing friends in uneven efforts at blunt honesty. Suddenly there it is, though: Watch how we inadvertently perpetuate racism either systemically or personally by not saying anything, not getting educated about racism’s very real presence and our roles in ending it.

We need models of courage to ignite our own moral outrage and displace our unrecognized complacency. New Orleans mayor Mitch Landrieu made a stunning speech in May 2017 just before workers removed a statue of Confederate general Robert E. Lee, the fourth Confederate monument to be dismantled in New Orleans in the past few weeks at the time. The speech went viral on YouTube and Landrieu has since written a book about it and his personal commitment to an anti-racist south. Here’s a portion of the speech:

“There are also other truths about our city that we must confront. New Orleans was America’s largest slave market: a port where hundreds of thousands of souls were brought, sold and shipped up the Mississippi River to lives of forced labor of misery of rape, of torture. America was the place where nearly 4,000 of our fellow citizens were lynched, 540 alone in Louisiana; where the courts enshrined ‘separate but equal’; where Freedom riders coming to New Orleans were beaten to a bloody pulp."

“So when people say to me that the monuments in question are history, well what I just described is real history as well, and it is the searing truth. And it immediately begs the questions: why there are no slave ship monuments, no prominent markers on public land to remember the lynchings or the slave blocks; nothing to remember this long chapter of our lives; the pain, the sacrifice, the shame … all of it happening on the soil of New Orleans.

So for those self-appointed defenders of history and the monuments, they are eerily silent on what amounts to this historical malfeasance, a lie by omission. There is a difference between remembrance of history and reverence of it. For America and New Orleans, it has been a long, winding road, marked by great tragedy and great triumph. But we cannot be afraid of our truth.

History cannot be changed. It cannot be moved like a statue. What is done is done. The Civil War is over, and the Confederacy lost and we are better for it. Surely we are far enough removed from this dark time to acknowledge that the cause of the Confederacy was wrong."

Conviction means we hold firmly to belief, we stand resolute. There is great courage – the kind needed for racial reconciliation and reparation - that comes from Christian conviction, in particular. How do any us demonstrate the courage of Christian conviction in today’s world? Will they know we are Christians by our love alone? And how many times in our lives have we needed to demonstrate the courage of Christian conviction, but it just wasn’t in us, and had we the opportunity to do it over again with such courage, we would have handled it very differently? ‘A plentitude.' Please, Lord, let these things agitate us and call us forward!